


Color Me Dawn

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ereri Secret Santa, M/M, Princely (aka popular boy) Eren, flowershop au, for the fluffy souls, high schoolers, hugely oblivious dorks, punk Levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi wears spiked belts and works in his mother's flower shop. And to him, Eren has the prettiest eyelashes. They flutter and stuff. They make his stomach flutter and stuff. (He thinks it's what he ate every damn time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color Me Dawn

Levi is eighteen years old. Really, he is. He's a senior. Two months away from graduation.

He's basically an adult.

And he's wearing eyeliner, with metal sticking through his earlobes, right eyebrow, and nasal septum. It's a look he's achieved through years of hardship, such as practicing putting on makeup in the mirror and carefully cleaning his piercing holes for the sake of  _the punk aesthetic_. Levi knows, knows more than he knows anything else, that he is anything but punk. He doesn't listen to emo-core or whatever the hell punks listened to, and his wardrobe does not consist of ripped up band shirts. In fact, his first celebrity crush was not Kellin Quinn. It was literally the boy bander named Louis Tomlinson. The exact opposite of punk. 

Levi's not punk. He just looks the role. And he feels damn good about how he looks, too, because while everyone thinks the cold exterior he holds with that cool, grey gaze of his to show that he is better than "all the people in the world, he's such a dick" is a facade, it's actually quite spot on. He is eighteen, an adult, and vain as hell. He is an adult and feels good about himself.

This, Levi thinks with a grimace, justifies the way his mother forces him to work in her flower shop (of all things, holy  _shit_ ) every Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday.

When Levi tells the old man in front of him how much his petunias will cost, he tries his best not to stick up the middle finger because the blond man has a comb-over and is giving him an extremely distrustful look. Looks as though someone got used to coming in when it wasn't his shift and seeing a lovely face with long, long black hair. He sighs in disgust once the man excuses himself with an awkward as fuck grin.

The sun is setting. Levi goes back to pruning lilac as he had been doing before being disturbed by Comb Over, and all is at peace. Closing time is in an hour, he estimates, because the sun is usually just a fair bit lower than it was at that moment when the shop closed. 

However, the Gods always had different plans for him.

Levi doesn't believe in any particular religion. That's probably why. They're punishing him for being so indecisive over religion.

It's not _his_ fault there were hundreds of Gods he didn't know about.

His back stiffens when he feels cool air drift through his hair in such a way that it couldn't have come from the artificial air conditioners. Levi always feels the urge to freeze up whenever a customer walks in.

A heavy sigh blows past his lips. 

Levi straightens from where he had been bent over the short lilac, turning with an imperceptible air of huffiness. So what if he sometimes gets tired of catering to costumers? Besides, _no one_ came in around this time. He was used to this time being deemed Levi's time. And perhaps using his iPod dock to play the music he liked and tend to the flowers as though he _liked_ the damn things.

Levi doesn't bother glancing up at the customer. He is busy staring at his hands, tapping his black finger nails against the smooth, slightly wet counter. Listening as this person scuttled around the store, seemingly lost. Levi should offer to help but he wasn't all that helpful a person and for all he knew, this could very well be another baby boomer wanting to glare at him as if perfectly winged eyeliner was offensive. If anything, they should be impressed. He stops tapping his nails and debates on getting a french manicure. When they notice, Levi is absolutely positive they'll glare as though their eyes were made of diamond and he were nothing more than glass. If anything, that would make him feel smug. Not angry.

Levi must have spaced out, because there is a shadow falling over his hands, and like, oh, apparently he hadn't been listening. Damn. Now there's no way he's going to be able to stop the stink eye from shoving itself in his face. Might as well make it nice.

Slowly, Levi cranes his head to return whatever kind of look he expects-

Levi is very. Fucking. Wrong.

There's an obviously uncomfortable guy, probably his age, standing in front of him with a bouquet of roses and a leather wallet in his fumbling hands. He's rocking back and forth, tip-toe to heel, very purposely acting casual and sucking at it. His eyes are darting from flower to flower, staring a little too long at the wisteria, and Levi almost laughs because this boy is attractive with colored eyes (unlike his, which are almost colorless) and he looks like he's going to explode. Like a firework, or something.

His eyes dart to Levi's, and Levi is inexplicably annoyed with how they went from dark blue to cyan with surprise. 

The shop drops dead compared to how this guy's eyes colored to Caribbean in some kind of relief.

Ah, Levi realizes he probably shouldn't be writing poetry in his head about this guy's eyes. 

Silence reigns, and Levi holds out his hand. The boy stares at it, wearing his too big varsity jacket- Levi should stop noticing things about pretty strangers, because the pretty stranger in question is not only  _pretty_ pretty but also looks kind of stupid. There is a limit to his patience, also, and he nods pointedly at the roses.

"Oh," he murmurs, voice strong despite the awkward, "Yeah."

Levi takes the offered roses. He rings them up, eyes dancing around the room, back to the kid -

_long eyelashes, is he wearing mascara? Nice._

\- to the flowers, to the amount he should ask for-

_oh, ho, ho, looks like pretty boy is fidgeting with impatience._

Levi has no idea what takes over him, but he finds himself handing back the roses and saying, instead of the price, "Roses?" with a considerable amount of disbelief and laughing in his voice. At least this guy isn't in his 50's, otherwise he'd have already backed up five feet. Into the other room. 

Pretty Boy looks at him with wide eyes, frazzled. "Well," he begins, in an even tone, "Everyone likes roses." 

"Sure," Levi volleys back, "They  _like_ them. What about the favorites?"

Pretty Boy doesn't seem to know what to say back, so Levi just tells him the price. Done. Done with boys and their ever changing eyes, buying roses for girls.

"I hope she says yes," Pretty Boy whispers nearly inaudibly to himself. 

Levi smirks. Apparently Pretty Boy is one of those boys.

Cute.

_Not cute. Your life was just turned into a cameo for a romcom. Be ashamed._

Levi twiddles with his earrings, watching as #24, JAEGER, walked back out the door. 

 

- 

 

It's three days later, on Friday, when Jaeger returns with what is quite possibly the most troubled expression Levi has ever laid eyes on. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes cast on his stupid white converse, and his are nostrils flaring. Levi winces. It's the weekend, the store just finished its rush hour, and he hasn't had coffee since 11 o'clock in the morning. It is now 3 o'clock in the afternoon. He cannot deal with football jocks who have been rejected swearing at him for cursing their flowers and therefore casting a spell on their potential girlfriend so she would refuse his request for a relationship.

But Jaeger doesn't start yelling angrily, even though he looks the type. Instead, he meets Levi's eyes for a few seconds. Then he begins to wander throughout the store.

Levi idly watches him, suspicious. When five minutes passes, he sighs, because Jaeger is touching every flower in the shop and almost dropping forget-me-nots.

Jaeger loiters around the shop long enough for Levi to finish arranging a bouquet of flowers for display, and take out his stereo and plug in his iPod to quietly play Placebo and Tegan and Sara. The minutes tick by too slow, in Levi's opinion, and he can't help but look up at Jaeger every now and again.

At 4'clock in the afternoon, a prepubescent boy walks in with his mother.

Now, Levi knows well and true not to judge a book by its cover. It's a teaching he's never forgotten. That never stopped him from doing so, though, and it's with good reason; Levi is right most of the time.

He tears his eyes away from the strawberry blonde with a high ponytail, wearing sunglasses and a yellow dress along with her son in the typical khakis and polo shirt. To their own accord (Levi swears on his life) they move toward Jaeger, opting out of his varsity jacket in favor of an AC/DC shirt.

And Levi hates being wrong.

He despises being wrong.

The woman walks right over to Levi, heels clacking against the floor. He grits his teeth in irritation every step she takes. It's not her fault he only likes to hear heels whenever a male is wearing them, he supposes.

True to chick flicks, the woman keeps a tight hold on her curious son's hand and lifts her sunglasses to rest on her forehead. No makeup. Probably mid-thirties. Levi hopes to hell he is wrong.

Before she can speak, the kid pipes up, "Hey, you! Are you wearing makeup?"

Levi wants to say, "No," in the most deadpanned way possible. Albeit he doesn't feel the urge to fight off brazen, let-me-speak-to-the-manager ladies. He bites his tongue, speaking  _almost_ nicely when he answers, "Yeah."

"Cool," replies the kid, not bewildered in the slightest. He returns his attention to the leaves on the floor. Levi's eye and mouth twitch in response to the mess and the kid's nonchalance. 

The mother is apparently having none of it. "Ha-ha," she puts in her two cents dryly, "Now. Uh, can I speak to the person manning the shop? I'm sort of in a hurry." 

Levi was right. "You're looking at him," he says, gesturing to the apron he sported, the pink contrasting with his  _punk_. Levi leans his hand on the counter, tilting his head to the side, "What do you need, good lady?" 

God, there's that look. It's like a fucking epidemic in Chicago. Infecting old bats on every corner.

"Just give me a bouquet of pink flowers." She blows a piece of her pink hair out of her face, and Levi hates her because he loves her hair. 

Vanity, Levi broods, wondering why he gets so worked up over customers. He chooses a day old bouquet near Jaeger, silently heckling the woman at the counter as he makes his way over. Jaeger has Beats by Dr Dre. Levi can't say he's shocked. 

When the customers leave, the kid gives him a bright smile and the woman a dirty look.

20 minutes past 4 o'clock. Levi is beginning to wonder when Jaeger is going to leave when the aforementioned walks over with a small curl to his lip.

"Are you going to tell me why you were stalking me for an hour and a half?" Levi questions, casually, wiping down the counter. He looks up at Jaeger through his eyelashes. Jaeger is shifting from one foot to the other. Moving around must be a nervous habit.

The boy throws him a quick look. "I was rejected." He spills the beans. "She . . . she was dating the volleyball captain."

"Oh," Levi smirks, "Is he taller, maybe more good looking than you?" 

"No," Jaeger denies, and Levi likes the momentary fire he sees. "She's dating the captain of the girl's volleyball team."

Snorting, Levi tries his best not to laugh. He uses as much will power as he has left in his body. "Oh. How wonderful." Before Jaeger can say anything, he adds in, "I've also heard lesbians hate roses. They lack originality. Homosexuals don't like things that lack originality."

Despite himself, the boy laughs. "It's alright," Jaeger shrugs, tension easing from his shoulders. "I didn't think she would say yeah."

"Why set yourself up for failure, _pretty boy_?" Levi cocks an eyebrow, intrigued. Both his elbows are leaning against the counter, giving him a nice view of Jaeger's glaring eyes in the broad daylight streaming through the window.

"I don't know," Jaeger shrugs lamely, "My parents want me to get a girlfriend. All my friends thought I should go out with the head cheerleader. I don't really know what I want."

 _So much for romcom_ , mourns Levi.

He feels for the boy. 

"I wish I could help," Levi offers, not entirely insincere. "However, I barely know you. I could offer you a free flower."

"I would like a free flower," nods Jaeger.

Levi turns around and picks up a lantana flower. It's small, but it's something. When he turns back and hands it to Jaeger, he gets a sort-of grin in reply.

"My name is Eren."

"Levi."

 

-

 

When attending a high school football match between Sina and Trost high, Levi notices a huge #24 on the field.

He curses Hanji, curses the day they were born. Damn that Erwin, too. When both are combined, Erwin and Hanji are an unstoppable force. One of whom reckons with angry Levi's in beds of clean sheets and big shirts with the window open and the fan turned up. Also known as Heaven. Levi's heaven.

"I heard Trost's quarterback takes to the game as lightning does to tall structures!" Remarks a happy Hanji, slapping Levi on the back.

Jesus. Please let them have at least semi-clean hands.

Levi almost dies when he confirms that JAEGER is on the field. He's seen Eren every shift he's had for two weeks.

Him and Eren talk about how stupid Philosophy is and how post-modern art is a weird name for post-modern art and how they both think getting tongue piercings sounds like hell on drugs.

Eren listens more than talks.

Levi talks more than usual.

Eren has long eyelashes. Levi can't get over them.

Maybe he should bring a comic book-

 _fucking Eleanor & Park_, Levi thinks suddenly, violently.

"Yes," utters Levi to Hanji when #24 sprints with hell hounds on his tail. Erwin raises his eyebrows. Levi ignores the peculiar look.

Levi also ignores his fluttering stomach in favor of cursing the grilled cheese his little sister made him earlier that day.

 

-

 

Whenever Eren comes in, he always has a different reason for being there and buying flowers.

"My dog died."

"I'm visiting my grandma today. And she's . . . kind of dead."

"My sister is getting married."

Those are all valid reasons. That was the first week. However, they began to get wack. Levi sometimes got headaches and stomachaches and it's all a huge mess, really.

"I'm feeling sick and flowers help. A lot. Believe me - Levi - believe me, they help."

"I got over my sickness and now I need flowers for celebration."

Something along those lines.

It's a Friday, the fourth week, just a few minutes before he's meant to close up.

Levi is sweeping the floor, inspecting flowers individually along the way. He thinks it's because he does such a good job of taking care of Ace Flowers that his mother keeps badgering him to work there. (She doesn't badger, in all actuality; Levi likes it. Especially since flowers smell nice, and boys come in.)

(One boy in particular, his brain supplies.)

There's barely any sun coming from down the street. Vehicles pass at the speed of light, looking for a party. Levi knows, without a doubt, that he will be in one of those vehicles tomorrow, cursing Hanji and Erwin as he was wont to do.

A boy wearing a varsity jacket colored red and white and gold walks by the window, staring imploringly around the shop as he does.

Levi feels the need to sigh in something other than annoyance. It bothers him a lot. It's almost unbearable when Eren finally walks in, shouting a greeting in that strong voice, a crooked smile forming on his lips. Levi's mouth twitches up in  _not annoyance_. Because Eren is not not endearing.

Not endearing, he means.

"I, uh, need flowers," Eren mutters, scratching the back of his neck. Levi goes to pick up a random batch, because at this point in time, he is honestly completely finished with hearing whatever reason Caribbean eyes has to offer. But Eren does something unexpected.

He stops him. "But! I have some in mind."

Levi stops, turning his head to Eren in a prompt to continue.

Eren blushes. "You have delphinium and iris, right?"

"Of course," answers Levi, rolling his eyes.

"Those, then."

Levi knows the precise location of every flower in the store. He knows, even as he stalls, gazing searchingly around the shop. Levi goes for purple delphinium when he decides that staying close to Eren is not a priority, as Eren is a simple man who he knows, as a fact, to enjoy flower bouquets with a similar color scheme. Levi noted this Wednesday, when Eren scowled at a man crossing the floor with a multicolored bouquet. He also seemed drawn to the color purple. Levi doesn't have any purple clothing articles.

He feels Eren's eyes on him as he coordinates through the shop. Levi doesn't mind.

When Levi comes back to Eren, he hands him the flowers and quickly avoids eye contact. 

"So," pitches in Eren, "How much will this cost?"

He looks up at Eren, his tousled hair and delicate nose, an awkward smile Levi likes so much he feels shy and slightly violated, and promptly forgets. 

"Free," Levi blurts out. 

"Mmm," hums Eren. Levi watches as he lifts up the flowers, spinning them in his hand, jaw working without a voice. He's about to ask what's up when Eren begins speaking in a low voice. "You told me flowers had meanings. Like, how hydrangea is debatable. And red roses are all about love. And stuff. These flowers here. Um. Delphinium means bold, like possibilities and that. And iris is faith. Those are your favorites, right? Irises."

Levi covers his mouth, smiling too hard from Eren's little ramble. "How'd you know?"

"I saw you."

"Stalker."

"No!" Eren huffs, frustrated. A smile betrays his tone of voice. "You just seemed to like these kind. Always staring at them, looking wistful. I thought you looked very pre- I mean, like, you looked like you really liked these kind and it was nice, so I went on Google and had a hell of a time finding them. Y'know. Your favorites. Not just-because."

"Okay," says Levi, slowly, unsure of where this is headed.

"So, like. I'm giving them back to you."

Levi furrows his eyebrows, wondering just what the fuck was happening. "Alright, I'll just go put them back." And he snatches the flowers from Eren's hands.

Jesus. 

Walking away, thinking of the audacity- having him make up some nice ass flowers-

"Oh, my God," groans Eren. 

Levi turns to see him covered his eyes, blushing from the neck upwards.

"That's not what I meant, Levi," he sputters, "Like. Oh, my God. Like, you're gorgeous and stuff. I like you. That's what I meant by giving them to you. Damn it."

From Levi's stunned silence, Eren braves removing his hands. He stares at Levi, eyes darkening in seriousness, and Levi thinks, _holy shit_.

"Those are for you. I can still pay for them if you want, Levi. But I sort of want you to, like, put them in your room or something and think of me."

Eren is using the word "like" excessively and he's fidgeting and Levi wants to kiss this difficult boy.

"I know what I want," says Eren.

"Ah," whispers Levi, hesitantly walking back to stand behind the counter. Eren is literally right across from him, all determination. Hm. "So that's how it is."

Crazy fluttering stomach be damned.

"I'll keep the flowers," says Levi, delicately. He likes that Eren stills looks ready for rejection. Thank God he won't have to see what Head Cheerleader saw. He nods to Eren. And Eren gets it.

His eyes widen minutely when Eren leans over the counter, soft lips landing on the corner of his mouth. Levi smiles.

"You missed."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's an explanation for our little spitfire, Eren, acting cute and nervous when first entering the shop:  
> It has nothing to do with Christa, the way his stomach flips upside down and quite possibly inside out. Eren swallows.  
> He has a military style undercut that oddly matches his style. Black skinny jeans, black sweater; and are those silver piercings? Eren winces in sympathy for the septum piercing. Armin tried getting one of those once upon a time. He ran out and cried.  
> He looked really, really pretty. Even prettier than Christa. Surrounded by stems, pots hanging from the ceiling with vines of green and purple and yellow falling over the edges, the orange afternoon sun glaring at just the perfect angle-  
> Eren is not straight.  
> Wow.
> 
> -
> 
> So that's that! :) I really hope you liked.


End file.
